


Baby won't you come on down?

by johannas



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Columbus Blue Jackets, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-10-20 07:54:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10658220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johannas/pseuds/johannas
Summary: “Out of all Mario Characters,” Seth muses, “Who would give the best head?”





	Baby won't you come on down?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrsvc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsvc/gifts).



> For the prompt: Seth keeps complaining that he's not getting his dick sucked enough. Ryan can fix that for him.
> 
> Dear mrsvc, you asked for blowjobs and you shall receive! Hope you enjoy <333
> 
> Thanks as always to Su for her amazing work that was 50% beta and 50% jokes about Ryan not having hair to pull at

It’s a sweltering spring day, unnecessarily hot for the time of year. Ryan is sweating through his socks, it feels like. His apartment does not have AC, and neither do Boone’s or Andy and Zach’s, so they’re all trying to fit on Seth’s second couch. He has a sick place. Mostly Joey’s work, but still.

Seth, as home- and AC-owner, has claimed an entire couch for himself, smirking at the TV, where Josh and Boone are playing Mario.

“Out of all Mario Characters,” Seth muses, “Who would give the best head?” Ryan can’t stop himself from snorting aggressively; Seth is so fucking dumb.

“Stop distracting!” Boone frowns offhandedly, while Zach loses it as much as Zach can lose it, showing about four teeth and honking a little.

“Peach, for sure,” he says, setting himself off again. First of all, Ryan can’t believe anyone would even consider seriously responding, but Zach’s still young and also an idiot, and second of all, that’s absolutely the most uninspired answer possible. He snorts again, louder and more dismissive.

Seth lifts his eyebrows at him. “You got something to say, Murr?”

“First of all, Peach has a tiny mouth,” Ryan argues, counting down on his fingers. “Second, no lips. Just because she’s the first _girl_ to pop into your head--”

“I would do Peach,” Zach says, making Josh free his hand to hit him in the shoulder with a scoff.

“ _Dude._ ”

“What?” Zach shrugs.

“Let Ryan speak,” Seth chides. “He sounds knowledgeable.” Boone grins meaningfully, but he keeps his mouth shut, thankfully.

Ryan breathes, “Jesus Christ.” He can’t believe he’s getting sucked into this, pun _not_ intended. “Nope. I’ve said enough.”

“Aw, come on,” Seth needles, before turning philosophical. “Yoshi looks like he would be a monster, but his nose would for sure be in the way.”

“You could fuck one of the ghosty guy’s eyes,” Boone chimes in drily, driving Josh off the course.

“They’re called _Shy Guys_ ,” Zach says primly, “And you have a disgusting mind.”

Seth is squinting at the ceiling like he’s actually considering sticking his dick in a ghost’s eye socket. Ryan really can’t believe him. “Why would you even be thinking about blow jobs during Mario Kart,” he asks flatly, bracing himself for an answer he does not actually want to hear.

Seth sighs dramatically, and he looks at Ryan with big, sad eyes. “I _never_ get my dick sucked anymore.”

“Cry me a river, Jones,” Boone says. He’s beaten Josh squarely and leaning back into the couch with a satisfied grin, while Ryan is trying to stop his brain from hyperactively conjuring up the visual of Seth receiving a blow job.

“Ryan asked,” Seth shrugs. “He cares about my well-being, right, Ry?” He’s turned another pitiful look on Ryan, who is working very hard to keep his face a neutral colour. He waits a little too long before forcing out, “Shut up, Jonesy,” and Seth laughs at him delightedly.

*

That’s the first time.

*

They are in their favourite shitty bar when Seth loudly complains, “I miss getting my dick sucked.”

He is staring at the bottom of his glass morosely, Katy Perry blaring through the speakers. Boone’s just left with a pretty brunette, so Ryan has no one to throw a desperate look at. Instead he pats Seth on the arm with a reluctant hand, directing a pained frown at his own life.

“Thanks,” Seth pouts, dropping his head on Ryan’s shoulder. It’s kind of sweet, in a really fucked up, dysfunctional way; Seth can’t stop whining about the amount of head he is not getting, and Ryan can’t stop thinking about what he’d look like if he was. Romance lives.

“I fucking hate this music,” he declares definitively. Seth snorts from his shoulder, and Ryan closes his eyes for just a second.

Ryan isn’t daring. He’s safe, and dependable, and he never makes a mistake. Or maybe that’s all things of the past.

“Let’s get you home,” he tells Seth, who feels like he might be falling asleep. He punches the Uber app on his phone.

“Your couch?” Seth asks. “My place is further.”

Ryan nods at him, and smiles back when Seth grins at him. He isn’t daring. They’ll be fine.

*

The sixth time Seth mentions it -- Ryan is trying so hard not to keep count -- they’re on Boone's couch, watching a movie and eating Indian, and Seth doesn't stop wistfully sighing while the main characters are hooking up.

“You’re pathetic,” Boone laughs. Seth just sighs harder, and Ryan bites on the inside of his mouth until he can taste blood. He’s developing a stress-induced cheek eating compulsion, and Seth is at least 70% to blame for it. He doesn’t understand why Seth doesn’t just go out and find a girl to suck his dick for him. Boone does that like, twice a week.

Whatever. It’s none of his business, and he shouldn’t care. He doesn’t care, even if Seth is making it their business a little by being so constantly outspoken about the whole thing.

Either way, Ryan has his hands full, with how he came twice in three hours last week thinking about what Seth’s hands would feel like pulling his hair. He decidedly does not have the time to deal with Seth’s problems on top of his own.

*

They’re in Detroit, just coming off a 3-2 win. Seth scored the OT-goal, but he’s jittery, kicking the back of Ryan’s chair on the bus; harder when Ryan flips him a middle finger.

“What’s up with you,” Ryan says, when they’re walking down the hallway of their hotel and Seth keep sighing. “If you wanted to go drink something, you should--”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Seth says, waving his hand. “Just gonna jerk off and sleep, I think.”

Ryan rolls his eyes as hard as he can. “Oh my god.”

“What,” Seth shrugs. “What do you usually do on off-nights?”

“I’m not talking to you about this.”

“Of course,” Seth grins. “You’re a saint.”

Ryan is not, in fact, a saint.

Seth sighs dramatically again, and Ryan knows what’s next, so he says, “Good game, Jonesy. Shouldn’t be too hard for you to find someone to--”

Seth stops in front of his door, turns around and cocks his head. “Yes?” he asks, raising his eyebrows when Ryan snaps his mouth shut.

“Forget it,” Ryan says testily. “You’re obsessed, anyway.”

“Well,” Seth opines, while he fits his room key in the lock, “If somebody would suck my dick once in awhile, maybe I wouldn’t have to--”

“Jesus, Jonesy,” Ryan blurts, too exasperated to think things through. “I’ll suck your dick if you’re so upset about it.”

Seth’s mouth closes with an audible click of his teeth, and the hotel door swings open with a thud that would be comical if Ryan couldn’t currently feel himself flushing from head to toe. Both of them kind of look at each other, and it’s really dumb, but in the place where he’s said it out loud and Seth is still quiet, it somehow starts feeling like an actual option. Like Seth would _let_ him.

Ryan swallows, hard, and shoots Seth a look, willing him to say something. For instance, something like _haha very funny murr_ , and then Ryan could say _you wish jonesy_ and go back to his own room and maybe slip, fall and die in the shower with dignity.

Instead, Seth is just staring at him, a little stunned, mouth hanging open dumbly. Ryan watches his chest rise and fall. He seems to be breathing harder than usual, but there’s no way to be sure.

“Um,” Seth replies eventually. He pauses too long before offering, “Thanks?” It’s a quintessentially lame response, and somehow it helps that Seth seems a little off-kilter too, makes it easier to walk him over the threshold and into the wall of his hotelroom, kick the door closed behind them, hand on his chest until he’s flush against the wall, staring at Ryan with wide eyes. Ryan’s very sure now that Seth’s breathing faster; he can feel it under his fingers, and that makes it easy enough to drop down to his knees.

He looks up while he’s dragging Seth’s zipper down. “Holy shit,” Seth breathes, sounding awed. Ryan is pretty sure of himself now, plus it’s very hard to think too hard about it in the face of what’s about to happen, lots of the blood Ryan would normally use for cognitive capacities rushing south.

Seth is already half-hard when Ryan gets his dick free, getting harder while he watches, wrapping a careful hand around the length of it. He looks at Seth again, who is breathing shakily, and thinks _okay_ , before mouthing over the head.

Ryan’s thought about this a _lot_ , but nothing his imagination generated over the course of many solo sessions in the shower can compare to Seth’s ragged and soft, “Yeah,” like he can’t stop himself from running his mouth. “Fuck,” he adds, when Ryan tongues at the underside of the head with enthusiasm, mostly to elicit another noise. He sets a pretty good rhythm, focusing on not choking. He can’t go too low because Seth’s pretty long, which he knew -- and even if he hadn’t known, he could’ve guessed, Seth’s so tall -- but it’s very different _feeling_ it. Better, for sure.

Seth's breathing keeps speeding up, and when Ryan looks, he has his nails digging into his palms, like he’s stopping himself from touching. Ryan is very much not stopping himself, one hand on Seth’s dick and the other resting on Seth’s huge thigh, and he’s almost there himself when Seth starts leaking, salt bursting on his tongue. He’s drooling a little, but Seth doesn’t seem to mind the mess, his hips twitching. Ryan just tries to keep his lips loose, looks up again, and Seth looks wrecked, eyes glassy and mouth open. It’s doing no favours to the tightness in Ryan’s jeans, especially when the closer Seth gets, the less he can seem to stop the babbling, _holy fucking shits_ and _oh my god ryans_ spilling out helplessly.

Ryan’s neglected dick is _suffering_ , but he doesn’t want to take his hands off Seth, instead squeezing his thigh a little harder and sinking down a little further, swallowing around him. It’s so worth it when Seth _gasps_ at that, thighs trembling under Ryan’s grip in the effort to stay still. Maybe they can save the facefucking for another time, Ryan thinks. Maybe Seth could touch him then, too. That’d be an excellent addition.

“Jesus oh my god,” Seth says, breathing heavy. “I’m gonna come.” Ryan concentrates on hollowing his cheeks, and Seth warns, “Ryan--”

Ryan pulls off, keeps his hand moving, and says, “I’ll swallow,” because he has some goddamn pride, which is of course when Seth shoots all over his lips and chin.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Sorry.” It doesn’t sound like he particularly means it, so Ryan doesn’t feel bad using Seth’s team issued shirt to clean his face. They’ve got more where those came from.

His knees are creaky when he gets back up, and maybe this wasn’t the smartest idea without at least a supporting pillow, but it’s too late for that now. Seth is still panting softly, slumped against the wall. He’s a pretty unbelievable sight and Ryan’s dick is totally game, still.

“Come here,” Seth says, already clawing at the button of Ryan’s jeans with clumsy fingers. It’s nice of him to not let Ryan implode right there in the middle of the room, but Ryan still can’t really believe what’s happening until Seth already has a hand on his dick. Then he just gasps and hides his face in Seth’s shoulder, moving his hips in tandem with Seth’s hand.

“Yeah,” Seth says in his ear, and it’s so typical that he still can’t stop talking-- “You’re so good.” His hands are a little too rough, a little too dry, but it’s fine; the last thing Ryan’s worried about is getting there. Seth keeps murmuring nonsensical stuff in his ear, which is more than enough, and Ryan stops himself from biting down on his shoulder to muffle his breathing, swallowing his whines instead, and then Seth mutters, “Lemme hear you, come on,” and Ryan comes all over his hand, with a noise he forgets to feel embarrassed about.

“Nice,” Seth says, wiping his hand somewhere Ryan can’t see, because he’s too busy sagging against Seth’s chest. He assumes it’s the shirt again.

“Sorry I got my-- you know,” he mumbles into the cotton. “Sorry about your shirt.”

Seth’s chest shakes with silent giggles under Ryan’s weight. “You had my dick in your mouth not five minutes ago, and now you can’t even say the word jizz,” he says, smile audible. “You’re funny.”

“Ugh,” Ryan replies intelligently. He can’t really muster up the energy to reply anything more useful.

“No worries,” Seth smiles when Ryan peels himself off of him, and Ryan has no idea what the fuck that means. _No worries_ , I liked it and want to do it many more times again? _No worries_ , this was a really stellar buddies thing to do? _No worries_ , I won’t tell because I’m not that big of a homophobe but this is never happening again? _No worries_ , I get jizz on my shirt all the time, just another Friday night--

He says: “Okay.”

“Seriously,” Seth says, and he sounds relaxed enough about it that Ryan really doesn’t feel like picking things apart unnecessarily.

“Okay,” he repeats. “See you tomorrow dude.”

“See ya,” Seth says. “If you’re watching a movie later, text me.” It’s distressingly normal, which is very reassuring, Ryan tells himself. He should be happy with that.

“Yeah, sure,” he replies, turning around resolutely when Seth starts pulling his shirt off. He wryly congratulates himself on the last shreds of his self-preservation instincts, and pulls the door closed behind him.

*

He thinks about it too much. That doesn’t really change.

*

It’s probably not going to happen again, Ryan concludes after two weeks of completely ordinary behaviour from Seth.

Ryan thinks about how he put his hands on Ryan’s dick as a thank you, when he didn’t really have to, and told him how good he was doing while he was jerking him off, which he certainly didn’t have to do. Ryan’s not sure those are your typical buddy-like practices, but then again, neither is dropping to your knees and attempting to swallow your teammate’s dick whole, so. They’re probably even.

He doesn’t forget about it really, but it gets easier to live with, plus it’s great to rerun the entire sequence in his mind when he has some time in the shower -- Works like a charm.

Acting normal in Seth’s face even though he just got off to thinking about sucking his dick that morning is not a new development at all, so that’s not a problem either.

What is a problem is this: Seth’s knee knocking into his.

It’s not because of the touching; the touching Ryan can handle, all of them touch all the time -- it’s because of the _spreading._ He can’t be expected to focus on his video game when looking over whenever Seth’s knee touches his means staring straight into his crotch.

 _Nobody sits like that_ , Ryan thinks spitefully, glancing over despite himself when Seth laughs and his knee shakes with him. It’s not like he can see his dick through his sweatpants, but he knows what it looks like perfectly fine either way, the image having carved out a permanent space in his brain, so it’s a moot point. It makes him _think_ about it, which is more than enough.

He gets blown to pieces by a grenade, and the screen helpfully says  _Mission Failed._  Yeah. No fucking way.

“Lemme,” Seth says, tearing the controller out of Ryan’s limp hands. He probably doesn’t have to touch so much of Ryan’s skin doing it, but Ryan can admit that at this point, he’s a little sensitive. At least Seth keeps his legs relatively together while he plays, having to sit up.

He’s supremely bad at CoD, and Boone laughs after the third time he fails to get out of the bunker. “What the fuck ever,” Seth declares, throwing the controller Boone’s way. “You do it,” and he falls back on the couch, legs spreading back open. It is ridiculous, and it is unnecessary.

Ryan knows he isn’t imagining things when Boone scoffs and says, “Don’t throw them. And close your legs, you animal.”

Seth gives him the finger, says, “Suck my dick.” Boone laughs meanly, probably delighted by Seth being such a bad loser. He starts the game back up, and Seth throws Ryan an unidentifiable look. He cocks his head, and the entire picture of him, with his stupid sweatpants, like he _expects_ something, like he’s _asking_ \--

“I’m getting a drink,” Ryan says, jumping off the couch. “Anyone?” Boone is too engrossed in his firefight to answer, and Seth is smirking at the TV like this is all _hilarious._

Ryan sticks his head in the fridge, hoping it’ll cool his face somewhat. He’s wound too tight, and he’s not sure whether or not Seth is teasing or what, but he can hardly ask with Boone right there. He grabs three gatorades, and thinks, _two can play this game._

“Sweet,” Seth says, when Ryan throws him a bottle. He’s still sitting like _that_ , but Ryan decisively does not look, instead staring Seth straight in the eye when he takes a swig from his own drink and swallows as slowly as he can. When he’s got Seth staring at his mouth, he licks his lips for extra effect. Bites them a little too, at the risk of overdoing it.

It works well enough: Seth sucks in a shallow breath, chest rising, and Ryan can see the appeal of teasing; he doesn’t mind the heady feeling rushing through him when Seth swallows thickly and sits up straight, diverting his eyes and closing his legs conspicuously.

“Gatorade?” Ryan asks Boone pleasantly.

*

So maybe there is something there.

After that first time, Seth doesn’t do something as obvious again, but he does other stuff. He pushes up against Ryan’s back all the time, hips flush against his ass, which Ryan is pretty sure is not buddies at _all_.

Ryan retaliates as well as he can, staring up at Seth or hollowing his cheeks whenever he gets the chance to. Lunch has been a real experience a few times. He doesn’t really know what they’re waiting for exactly. A good opportunity. An excuse, maybe.

* 

In the end, he doesn’t even do it on purpose. Maybe that’s even better, he’ll think later, triumphant; that Seth couldn’t resist the way he just happened to look.

Ryan has to keep squinting against the sun even with his shades on, but the beach is beautiful and they’re on vacation. He will not degrade himself to the piña coladas Bill and Wenny are nursing, but he’ll have a popsicle. It’s a holiday and sugar is good for the energy levels.

His phone buzzes from somewhere. It’s not in his trunks because he’s been swimming, but he finds it somewhere in the heap of clothes and towels next to his sunbed.

 _r u kidding me,_ Seth has sent.

Ryan frowns over at him. He’s literally right there, why would he text? Seth is looking at him, unimpressed. Ryan shoots him a confused look, to which Seth responds with more frantic typing.

 _im not that easy,_ he says. He is easy, but that’s beside the point while Ryan looks down at himself, wondering what he’s doing different than usual, and finds himself with an ice lolly. _God_ , that’s the most cliché thing ever.

He uses three fingers to text back a _yes you are_ , and then he has to stick the stupid popsicle back into his mouth because it’s starting to melt and drip on his leg. He feels annoyingly self conscious about it when he licks the underside, knowing that Seth is watching and knowing what it looks like.

“I’m tired,” Seth says, hard. “I’m taking a nap.” He does not look tired at all when he looks Ryan in the eye and says, “Inside,” and Ryan thinks _finally_. He wasn’t going to break first.

Nobody acknowledges Seth, except Harry, who waves half a hand in his direction that seems to say _whatever_.

Ryan smirks around his lolly, following Seth to their apartment. It’s right next to the beach, so it’s not a long walk. Seth doesn’t say anything the whole way.

The first thing he says is, “This was really dumb.” He’s crowding Ryan up against the door and taking the now empty stick out of his hand so he can throw it on the floor.

“Honest mistake,” Ryan shrugs. “I’m not that much of a cliché.” He smiles at the little frown between Seth’s eyebrows. It’s pretty cute, objectively, that’s all. “But you are.”

“Yes, well,” Seth smiles. “Maybe.” He’s pressed up against Ryan, warm and hard, and maybe Ryan is easy enough for that too.

“I’m getting a pillow this time,” he says. “Not fucking up my knees again.”

“We can-- on the bed,” Seth offers, quickly, and Ryan wants to, so he nods. Seth is breathing hard and Ryan kind of wants to kiss him, but he doesn’t.

Seth throws himself on his bed, looking up at Ryan with wide eyes, and Ryan thinks he wouldn’t enjoy this as much if Seth did not make it so rewarding. Probably.

Seth lets out a ragged breath when Ryan gets his mouth on him. Ryan’s done some research. He can’t believe he really typed in _blowjob tips_ on Google after a night out where Seth had been enthusiastically gyrating his hips just a little too much and Ryan had started drinking his beer through a straw just to get his own back, but it’s pretty worth it when he mouths at Seth’s balls and it makes him choke on his breath, loud.

“ _Holyfuckingjesus,_ ” Seth says, when Ryan tongues at the underside, licks up the length and fits his mouth over the head again, swirling his tongue.

Ryan releases him with a pop so he can smirk up at Seth, who pushes at his shoulder. “Don’t stop,” he whines, and Ryan broadens his grin before dragging his mouth down Seth’s dick again, making him sigh.

He forgets a lot of the more complicated techniques he read about when Seth's moans become more persistent, and he finds out that grinding down on the bed feels really good, and then Seth moves the hand on Ryan’s shoulder into his hair, tight. Ryan feels so warm, with Seth in his mouth, the noises Seth’s making filling his ears and long fingers digging into the back of his neck. It’s like Seth is everywhere. Ryan tries to take him deeper.

Seth groans when Ryan moves back to his balls, careful to keep his hand moving. Ryan briefly wonders what would happen if he’d move down further, and the next time he rubs himself on the mattress, he gasps against Seth’s skin.

“ _Shit_ ,” Seth forces out between quick breaths, and when Ryan looks up he’s staring at him, awed. Ryan does not have the presence of mind to smirk anymore, instead moving his hips again, eyelids fluttering closed with the feeling. Seth threads his fingers through his hair, guiding him so he takes Seth into his mouth again. He doesn’t stop watching Ryan, his breathing heavy and eyes dark. Ryan sucks him quick and loose, grinding down shamelessly.

It only seems to spur Seth on, his hand pulling in Ryan’s hair and his hips thrusting up. His eyes are unfocused, but they don’t move away from where Ryan’s humping the bed, and Ryan realizes he _likes_ that Ryan’s getting off on this. He moans around Seth, and Seth grips the sheets, breath catching, and comes.

Ryan sucks him through it, and after, he finally gets a hand between himself and the bed, putting his forehead on Seth’s thigh. He whines a little at the roughness, bites his lip to stop himself.

“Come-- up,” Seth mutters, pulling on Ryan’s arm insistently and letting him bury his face in his neck while he replaces Ryan’s hand with his own. It’s-- good. His hands are big.

Ryan presses his mouth at the spot where Seth’s neck meets his shoulder, kind of sloppy, but Seth just breathes, “ _Yeah_ ,” and squeezes his hand.

When Ryan comes, he wipes his hand on Ryan’s shorts and pats him on the hip weakly. Ryan rolls off, and they both starfish on the bed for a while.

Ryan thinks he might be forever indebted to Cosmopolitan when Seth stares up at the ceiling dopily and says, “Fuck dude, that was even better than I remembered.”

Ryan gives himself three seconds to breathe through _that,_ and then teases, “You think about it a lot, Jonesy?”

“Oh, shut up,” Seth replies, but he doesn’t sound half as bothered as he usually does. “You know what you’re doing.”

“You started it,” Ryan argues, just for the sake of it. Seth slaps him in the chest with a lazy hand, but they’re both smiling. It’s actually pretty nice.

“Okay,” Seth says, heaving himself up. “Wanna go back out and swim instead of taking a shower?” Ryan barely stops himself from gesturing down to where there’s come all over his trunks, instead frowning at Seth disbelievingly. “Maybe change shorts first?” Seth suggests, flicking his eyes down anyway and biting his lip.

“Some of us swallowed,” Ryan says, flippant, hopping off the bed. Seth’s laugh follows him into the bathroom.

*

It changes, after that. It’s easier; Seth will just press his chest to Ryan’s back, wrap his fingers around Ryan’s wrist. On one memorable occasion, he puts his hands on Ryan's hips and moves his lips over his neck in the darkness of a dancefloor, and it's so hot that Ryan drags him into one of the bathroom stalls instead of waiting for an Uber.

Ryan thinks he might be a little too easy for it, but Seth always gets him off too and honestly, Ryan likes it too much to care. Likes hearing the sounds Seth can’t contain, how he’s getting braver each time, helping Ryan with one or two insistent hands in his hair, the look in his eyes when Ryan's blowing him, like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

This one time, when Ryan’s back is hurting from an awkward hit along the boards, they just exchange lazy handjobs, Seth making sure Ryan comes first, like that’s somehow going to help. It does, a little, but Ryan’s pretty sure that’s just the orgasm, and not the way Seth had rubbed his nose on his temple while stroking him off.

*

He breaks his hand, which is. A little too exemplary, it feels like, of how this year is going for him personally. He curses himself for what feels like the thousandth time for blocking the shot with his fucking _hand,_  then curses Ennis a bunch for shooting at _his_ _fucking hand_ , and then calms down after a night’s sleep.

On Monday, he gets surgery and a cast. After, he goes home and sits on the couch for a while, staring at the TV without registering what’s even on. It’s okay. He’s not thinking too much, which is definitely better than the alternative. They're playing Philly tonight, and Ryan sends his good luck along with a picture of his brand new accessory. The variety of sad emoticons and well wishes lifts his spirits enough to put on sweats and order in food. Torts called him about how he wants to get him on the ice as soon as possible, even with the cast on, so he pouts and does not order pizza.

The next day is much of the same, lounging around and being bored, not even being able to play x-box or guitar, until Seth texts him around lunch.

 _im coming over_ , it says.

Ryan rolls his eyes at his phone; Seth is so rude. It’s vaguely annoying how he is still just kind of endeared, and only texts back _ok._

“Hey man,” Seth says when Ryan opens the door with one hand. Seth’s eyes go to the cast immediately. “Fuck, that sucks.”

“Yup,” Ryan replies, pressing his lips together. “You here to make me some food?”

“I’m not your fucking nurse,” Seth says, and yet he moves to the kitchen immediately after toeing off his shoes.

“Looks like it, though,” Ryan smirks at him over the countertop. Seth just raises his eyebrows at him, pulling open random cabinets. Ryan has a lot of food, which he seems pleased about, and Ryan hates how his stomach flutters at the sight of Seth making him sandwiches in his kitchen. He looks pretty at home there, even if Ryan has to direct him sometimes when he can’t find something. He talks about his day a little bit; about Zach’s latest lame chirps and how the meeting went, and even though Ryan thought he didn’t want to know, he’s fine with hearing Seth talk about it.

“Here you go, you cripple,” Seth says, putting a plate in front of Ryan. He’s cut the sandwiches, which is thoughtful.

Ryan holds up one of the triangles. “This is cute.”

“Hmm,” Seth hums around a mouthful. “Next up is your shower.”

Ryan grins at him, and it’s nice. “Wanna Netflix?” he asks, and they move themselves to the couch.

“These are actually really good, Jonesy,” Ryan says, sounding impressed despite himself, once he’s cleaned his plate. He’ll be the first to admit that he likes eating pretty much everything, but still.

“Does it hurt?” Seth asks, nodding to Ryan’s hand instead of responding, and Ryan sighs.

“They got me on painkillers. But yeah, still.”

And then Seth slides off the couch and onto his knees in front of Ryan, and Ryan’s brain short circuits temporarily. “Um,” he says.

Seth levels him a meaningful look, and Ryan blurts, “Yeah, yes, please,” words spilling out of his mouth. He’s gone straight to begging, but he can’t muster up any embarrassment for it, because he’s pretty sure that’s what’s making Seth smirk slowly, and he looks extremely good unzipping Ryan’s jeans.

“I’ve thought about this,” Seth tells Ryan’s dick casually, like that’s not breaking Ryan’s brain. He really can’t stop himself when he puts his healthy hand in Seth’s hair, feeling it curl between his fingers.

“That’s good,” Seth says, before licking up the underside, and Ryan honest to God _shivers._ It would be so embarrassing how he’s gone from zero to a hundred in less than thirty seconds here, if it weren’t for how Seth _looks_ at him, like this is turning him on right now, focus all on Ryan’s face while he drags his tongue along his dick again. Ryan moans and twitches, and then Seth’s fingers dig into the side of his knee, and it turns into this feedback loop in which everything Seth does makes Ryan even more desperate, more shameless, and every sound he can’t contain seems to make Seth more determined to make it as agonizing as possible for him.

Seth starts pressing his open mouth to Ryan’s dick at some point, to his balls, and Ryan is not even sure what’s going on anymore, or how long it’s been since Seth has had his mouth on him without doing any actual sucking, but he knows it’s good, his whole body thrumming with how Seth is touching him, breath stuttering. When Seth finally does fit his lips over the head, it’s a _revelation_.

He can hear himself make every inarticulate noise possible, focusing every bit of brainpower he has left on keeping his hips still. Seth isn’t careful about it, moving like he can’t get enough, eyes closed, and when Ryan tightens his fingers in his hair, he moans around Ryan. It feels so good that his hips twitch upwards out of their own volition, but Seth moans even more at that, like he _likes_ it, and there’s only so much Ryan can take, groaning too loudly when Seth lets him snap his hips minutely, jaw loose and hands moving up to touch the bare skin of Ryan’s hips.

Ryan tries to say all kinds of objectively humiliating things, but he can’t really breathe if he’s not gasping, and he can only hope that that appropriately conveys how this is the best thing that’s ever happened to him in his entire life too. It feels so good, like everything is Seth, his entire body attuned to where Seth is touching him, so warm--

Seth opens his eyes, looking up, and that is what gets Ryan in the end, the sight of him. He shakes through his orgasm, breathing like he’s played ten three-minute shifts. Seth doesn’t swallow all of it, but Ryan couldn’t care less.

“You, huh--” he says weakly, nodding to himself, and Seth grins brilliantly, clambering up so he is kneeling over Ryan and Ryan has to tilt his head up to look him in the eye. He’s post-orgasm soft and dumb, and looking at Seth makes his chest feel all fuzzy. He’s emphatically not thinking when he answers Seth's smile and pulls him down for a kiss.

It’s lazy, because Ryan can’t move anything too fast right now, but he can run his tongue along Seth’s lips slowly and push into the heat when he opens up. Seth scoots closer, and he’s so warm against Ryan. He doesn’t stop kissing back for a long time.

“I don’t taste like dick?” He asks against Ryan’s lips, when he pulls back.

He did, vaguely, but he hasn’t for a long while, and Ryan shakes his head, bumping their noses. “You taste perfect,” he says, making Seth smile.

“If I’d known you’d get like this, I would’ve blown you way earlier,” he murmurs. He has his hands under Ryan’s shirt, and Ryan can’t think beyond that and his lips and his body, warm and heavy against him, and he really doesn’t want to.

“Does that mean you’re gonna do it again?” He’s sliding his hands up Seth’s thighs and his stupid cast is in the way, but he finds himself not even caring.

“Oh yeah,” Seth replies, full of promise, and Ryan kisses him again for that, enthusiastically. Seth responds just as eagerly, and Ryan feels the thrill of it in his gut.

“Ryan,” Seth breathes, after Ryan nips his lip and lets go. “I know you only have one hand, but--”

He twitches his hips, and Ryan says, “Oh fuck, sorry.” His good hand is his left, which is a little clumsier than normal, but it works just fine, especially now that he can turn his face up and kiss the shit out of Seth while Seth, for his part, is just kind of panting into his mouth.

Seth comes on his shirt, and then he snaps Ryan’s underwear back over his exposed dick and kisses up his throat in an apology. As far as apologies go, it’s an impeccable one. Ryan still starts feeling pretty gross and sticky after a couple minutes, and he remembers-- “Thought you said it was time for my shower now?”

Seth snickers, “You need my help with that?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Ryan says gravely, and Seth presses a kiss to his jaw, then flicks him in the ear playfully, making Ryan grin. “I’m serious, I think I need a plastic bag around my cast. There should be instructions here somewhere.”

“Sexy,” Seth intones drily, releasing Ryan and dropping down next to him on the couch. Ryan goes to find a bag and the folder the doctor gave him, sitting back down once he’s got everything he needs. Seth rolls his eyes at him struggling with the plastic and helps him. Doing shit one-handed is _hard_.

“I’m going to have to learn eventually,” he says, when Seth slaps his good hand away for the third time.

“Yes, well. You’ll have enough time to,” Seth replies, and focuses back on his task, tongue caught between his teeth in concentration. He looks infuriatingly attractive, and it occurs to Ryan that maybe he does not have to keep those kinds of opinions to himself anymore.

It might be a little early for that though, and instead of letting his mouth run wild, he smiles, “Thanks.” Seth smiles back.

It’s like he says, Ryan thinks. They’ll have enough time.


End file.
